POV Amethyst
The air in the Inner Sanctum was no longer stagnant. With the core pulse restored, a gentle, silver-tinted breeze swept through the hallways, carrying the scent of ozone and ancient stone. But there was no time to bask in the victory of reclamation. The Palace was awake, but it was vulnerable—a beacon in a valley that had been dark for ninety years.
Jackson stood at the edge of the moonstone pedestal, his eyes already shifting from awe to the cold, hard focus of a commander. He didn't need to say a word; I could feel his tactical mind reassembling itself through the pack bond, shifting from the spiritual surrender of the trials back to the "Geometry of Defense."
"The grace period is over," Jackson announced, his voice ringing through the hall. "Amethyst has opened the door,
